A young woman is plucked from the streets and told she’s really a princess: you’ve heard that story before. The kind-hearted prince who has doubts about his father’s rule: I’m guessing you’ve heard that too. The bloodthirsty warrior brought back as an all-powerful slave by scheming ifrit who refused to submit to Suleimann’s laws that created the tribes of djinni and daevas, who then created ghouls to attack the princess, whom the enslaved warrior must protect…wait, what?

Even if you’ve heard the first two tropes, I guarantee you haven’t heard it like S.A. Chakraborty tells them in the first book of the beloved Daevabad Trilogy, The City of Brass. Divided amongst the narratives of Nahri, a young con in Cairo, Ali, a prince sworn to serve his brother’s future crown, and occasionally Dara, the once-famed or reviled daeva warrior, the world-building and complexity of the characters are beyond impressive.

In The City of Brass, I thought Ali had the strongest narrative and best writing. Nahri’s transition from scheming human to daeva political player is inevitably slower and more awkward. Beginning the story as a selfish survivor, her heart quickly gets in the way of her streetwise nature. It’s surprising to see Nahri get swept away, and far more satisfying to see her play to her strengths.